Demure
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Feliciano knocks on Ludwig's door one thundering night, bearing a surprise that will change their lives: a baby girl. Alas, this girl as secrets of her own, passed down by her mysterious father. MPREG GERITA!
1. The Rain

**Demure **

**Synopsis: Feliciano knocks on Ludwig's door one thundering night, bearing a surprise that will change their lives: a baby girl. Alas, this girl as secrets of her own, passed down by her mysterious father. MPREG GERITA**

**Pairing: GerIta**

**Genre: Romance/ Hurt/comfort **

**WARNINGS: Rated M for some rather graphic scenes.**

**Chapter 1: The Rain **

_"Oh, how this spring of love resembleth,_

_The uncertain glory of an April day,_

_Which now shows all Beauty of the Sun,_

_And by and by a cloud takes it all away." _

_-The Two Gentlemen of Verona, _William Shakespeare

The rain slaughtered the grass and roofs. It poured down in the dead of night, as three o'clock waned in. It fell over a small neighborhood. It was usually very quiet and undisturbed, and so the strange figure trudging along darkly and hunching over had chose an excellent time to come over. Had he arrived when the residents were awake, chaos would have arisen. Alas, these thoughts were but vague hiccups in the stranger's mind. He eventually trudged over to one of the houses and rapped his knuckles upon the door, glad to be sheltered from the downpour.

The resident of this particular home, a tall, burly German man, noticed the knocking and dismissed it as a dream. His dreams were troubled that night, visited constantly by foreboding darkness and shadows which flickered menacingly beneath his eye lids. Then came the second knock. Resigned to removed himself from the warm sheets, he hobbled to the door.

When he opened it, he promptly gasped.

Outside the door, standing with a bloodied bundle to his chest and eyes so tired the bags beneath them may as well be the size of Pluto, was a young Italian man he hadn't seen in several months.

"Feliciano?" The German gasped, recovering his instincts and gesturing the burdened man inside.

"I'm sorry to trouble you so morning, Ludwig," Feliciano murmured, his voice of a man's who was tipping off the brink of wake and sleep.

Ludwig shook his head vehemently, ushering the exhausted man in and shutting the door. In the dim light of the living room, Feliciano's form became apparent. His clothing was torn and caked with blood; red as rubies, that trailed and splattered over his shirt and pants. His front was covered with the blankets, wrapped tightly and close to Feliciano's bosom.

Ludwig rushed into the bathroom, which was down a narrow hall way with beige walls that held the kitchen on the left side and the guest bedroom on the right. There was only one floor, and Ludwig's room was the farthest down the corner. He came back with a soft blue towel, wrapping it around Feliciano's sagging shoulders. "What happened to you?"

Feliciano didn't respond for a long time.

"I got in some trouble," he mumbled at last, holding the bundle ever closer to him.

"You've been gone for a long time, what, did you get tangled with the mafia?" Ludwig joked, but resented it the moment it left his lips. This was certainly not a time for fooling around. He pressed a warm hand to Feliciano's shoulder, which stiffened like a brick.

Then, there was a very soft cry, like a mewl of a kitten.

Feliciano smiled sheepishly, hoping Ludwig didn't notice.

The cry came again.

The source was the bundle Feliciano held ever so tenderly.

"What's in the bundle?" Ludwig resigned himself to say, glancing it over and reaching forth.

Feliciano snapped away, his eyes enraged. "Nothing," he snapped shortly. He looked at the bundle pleadingly, but it began to cry yet again, this time louder. It sounded like an infant. "Hush," Feliciano whispered, rocking slightly and watching Ludwig in defeat.

Ludwig, tired off everything, quickly snatched off the top bundle. What he revealed was exactly what expected. Yet, he stumbled and held back a yelp of surprise. He had hoped his suspicions would go unheeded, but he was proved dreadfully wrong.

Inside the bundle was a very small infant girl. She had smooth, slightly tanned skin, golden eyes like honey (the color of Feliciano's), and tufts of black hair; the color of upturned earth. The girl stared at Ludwig in mystified fascination. She gave him a toothless giggle.

Ludwig's heart melted then. The child was absolutely beautiful, his soft, tender side shimmering through. "She's beautiful." He muttered.

Feliciano allowed a weak smile to flicker over his face, "Yes, her name is Mia." He explained. Mia reached out a minute hand towards Ludwig.

Ludwig allowed her to grip his pinky finger. She brought it over to her mouth and examined it. Which meant, as babies go, sucking on it and staring profusely.

"Where is she from…?" Ludwig asked, chuckling warmly.

Feliciano stiffened again. He licked his lips and gazed to his lower left. He hoarsely responded; "Well, as I was walking over, before the rain started, there was this woman, I think she was a widow, and she had begun giving birth. I had trained in that a little, so I rushed to help her. We entered an alley-way out of sight and I helped her give birth. It was very messy and she strained for hours, the rain was beginning when the rain began. She held her and, as she wept, named her child." It all sounded queerly rehearsed.

"That doesn't explain how you got a hold of her," Ludwig asked, still watching those curious golden eyes, glimmering like the sunset, watch over him.

Feliciano swallowed and nodded, "U-um, that's because the woman tragically died. She had lost too much blood. She made me promise to watch over her baby." He said hastily, running fingers lovingly down Mia's cheek.

With the blanket gone from Feliciano's front, the stains became even more so visible. From his crotch and trailing down his legs was a river of red—red as rubies, red as the final supple hours of sunshine. It was still moist in some areas.

"Do you want me to get you some clothing?" Ludwig asked, noticing. He hadn't believed a word of the exhausted man's fable.

"That would be very kind, thank you." Feliciano rocked Mia in his arms, lending her a finger to suck on gently.

Ludwig returned with a bundle of clothing. Feliciano grinned and asked Ludwig to hold Mia while he dressed. Ludwig obliged and turned away respectively.

Feliciano dressed in the t-shirt and shorts, which proved several sizes too big; which meant that they were rather comfortable. He folded away his soiled clothing and tossed them in the waste bin. He tapped Ludwig on the shoulder. He was filthy, still, but better than the clothing.

Ludwig gingerly returned the baby, who had begun to nod off, her eyes flicking closed, long dark eyelashes creating semi-circles upon her cheeks.

"Tell me the truth, please, Feli," Ludwig said, sitting down with Feliciano upon the couch.

"I don't think you want to hear it." He asked, his hair still bedraggled and frayed.

"I do." Ludwig pleaded, holding Feliciano's wrist gently.

Feliciano sighed, "She's my daughter."

Ludwig nearly drowned in emotion. He felt betrayal, shock, fear, jealously, and countless other he daren't name. Why had Feliciano gone off and knocked some lady up? That didn't sound like something he would do! Why didn't he tell him? Why, oh here's the million dollar question, why was he jealous of this woman? "Oh," he managed to say thickly and stupidly.

Feliciano remained silent, swaying slightly for Mia to fall asleep.

"Who's the mother?" Ludwig asked, gripping his knees. He didn't truthfully want the answer. But he needed it.

"Do you really want to know?" Feliciano asked, as though reading his thoughts.

Ludwig's answer caught in his throat, but he managed to croak out; "Yes."

"I am." Feliciano stated simply.

"What?" Ludwig asked, biting his lip and gripping his knees tighter, until his knuckles turned white. He refused to make eye-contact.

"I didn't meet some woman. I was gone for all those months, right?" Feliciano looked up, raising an eyebrow, "Well I got a bit too much to drink one night and stumbled into some part of town. I can remember it all, really."

Ludwig nodded stiffly, still glaring at the ground, as if _it_ was at fault. "Who's the father, then?"

"I don't know, actually." Feliciano admitted ruefully, "He was a very kind, humble man, with hair dark and black as night. I guess the night was too filled with passion for me to even ask the guy's name! Such is a true dalliance. I would know him if I saw him, though. We weren't in love, though, just a night of passion. He was a very odd man." He looked away, his hair pressed still against his face. "I'm sorry."

Ludwig brought himself to look at Feliciano, who had fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "What are you sorry for?" The blonde asked, startled.

"For running off. I was so scared, so scared… At first I thought I had gotten sick. Then I knew what really happened and fled as fast as I could. I hopped from place to place, until I wasn't far from here and—well I had Mia and then came to you." He shuddered at the memory, tears still tumbling down Feliciano's tears and plopping onto the bundle. Mia noticed and frowned, reaching for him. Feliciano slid a slender finger into her groping hands.

"Don't be sorry," Ludwig had resorted to the obvious truth; it was impossible to stay mad at Feliciano, especially in this condition. "Please, don't be sorry…" he added in softer undertones.

"Is there somewhere I can sleep, a guest bedroom?" Feliciano asked, gazing into Ludwig's eyes in a bittersweet way.

"The guest bedroom doesn't really have a bed, sleep in mine, I'll use the couch." Ludwig asserted, but Feliciano, with his free hand, snatched Ludwig's arm.

"Please, I've been so alone, sleep with me…" He muttered breathlessly, furrowing his brows and pleading.

"I—I," Ludwig stammered, but found no opposite route. "Come on, down there, I'll go get you something to drink."

Feliciano thanked him multiple times, and would proceed to until the end of his life. He entered the room and created a make-shift nest out of pillows, settling Mia down ad tucking her in gently. He kissed her forehead and lay down, laying a hand across her protectively, falling into a deep slumber without dreams.

Ludwig returned and placed the glass of water on the bedside, not finding the heart to wake him. He relaxed next to him. He, too, protectively placed an arm about Mia, finding that his fingers tangled with Feliciano's.

The rain stopped pouring at 6 in the morning. The sun poured through the clouds, casting a bright yellow light to sift into the room and sparkle on the sleepers. The world outside was heavy, lush, and green with the rain water. The neighbors had got about their own business, the early risers at least, such as the children getting up groggily to brush their teeth and ready themselves for school.

Feliciano was awake, nursing Mia silently and watching the outside world. Ludwig rose as well, and stopped, staring at Feliciano. His hair brimmed in the sunlight, looking like copper. But that wasn't all. He looked different. No longer were his features careless, free, and foolish. There was a maternal smile laced upon his lips, his eyes deep and thoughtful. He looked rich, full, complete.

Ludwig also found his fingers entwined with Feliciano's. He blushed and moved slightly.

Feliciano turned slowly, as if waking from a deep dream. "Good morning," He said, smiling at Ludwig, "I hope you slept well."

Ludwig removed his fingers, "Oh, I slept alright, what about you? Sorry about that," he nodded at his hand.

Feliciano looked at his hand curiously, "I slept fine, and it's nothing, really… I feel I've changed, you know? It's odd to think of me, that guy who only wanted to run away and cook pasta, having a baby and waking early, thinking… Just thinking…"

"I don't know," Ludwig muttered, staring at the ceiling, "Sometimes, I used to think if there was something more, something warm and mature beneath that hard shell of silliness."

Feliciano's eyes widened and he turned, overcome with sudden emotion so strong and powerful, greater than passion and rage, greater than happiness and sadness. He didn't know what it was, but next think he knew he was leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Ludwig's lips, careful not to squish Mia between them.

"_I love you," _He whispered to the startled Ludwig, who had kissed back.


	2. The Trails of Pregnancy

**Demure**

**_This chapter is rated M_**

**The Trials of Pregnancy **

As Felicano stood, watching the trees sway in the breeze, and nurse Mia, he painfully recalled the months previously. Sinking into a reverie, he tucked his elongated hair behind an ear.

He had stumbled drunkenly through a dingier stretch of town, his hair rumpled and his eyes bloodshot, searching for someone to fill the void in his belly. The memories were foggy, doused in liquor, but somehow clear in his mind. Perhaps he hadn't had quite enough to drink. Feliciano shifted Mia in his lap, watching her play with a rattle.

After seemingly aimless wandering, he had found a polite and anxious gentleman with hair black as soot and a strong jaw standing beside a light pole. Feliciano raised a brow. He flirted graciously with the man, gesticulating with rapid hand movements and surprised to find the man spoke Italian as well. As the alcohol turned in his body and sobriety began to show its shy face, he found himself talking more freely with the man.

He asked what the fellow was doing wandering around town. The man explained that he felt odd in his loins and wondered, he admitted this regretfully, if he could find somebody to extinguish the fire in him.

Feliciano, already half undressed and laying comfortably on the couch besides the man nodded attentively. He explained that he, too, was searching for a mound to cover the gaping hole within.

The man laughed, feeling somewhat exited by Feliciano's touches and rose-petal like kisses. He amused himself with similar gestures of affection.

Before Feliciano even needed to ask, he was mounted and passion exploded, lighting up the dim room. Surging through his veins was a blaze, a passionate fluid. He felt something snap in his belly as the abyss was filled and overflowed.

The lay, moaning like wild animals, undressed next to one another. Feliciano's silky brown hair stuck to his face and lay over his eyes, his hand absentmindedly upon his stomach. He fancied for a moment that he'd been impregnated, and promptly fell asleep.

When he woke the next morning, he found a blanket strewn over him and breakfast upon the coffee table. The man, whom of which he hadn't even learnt his name, had left a note detailing that he had work and thanking Feliciano for the previous night. Scribbling down a note back at him and hassling into clothing, feeling somewhat ashamed of his mindless, beastly actions, he left.

Months passed and he felt his abdomen swell. Suddenly conscious of what he was eating, he tried for a diet and found exercise far too painful. He convinced himself he was gaining weight and left it at that. Only when morning sickness lapped over him like a violent wave, did he fathom a pregnancy test. The very idea seemed foolish and he shook his head, as if to dislodge the thought and send it hurtling out of his ear. He retched again on doing so and hopelessly wondered if he should visit a doctor.

For whatever reason, mostly fear, Feliciano did not go up on his own offer. In the depth of night, he crept to a drug store and purchased a pregnancy test. The pimpled cashier made a vague comment about Feliciano and his alleged girlfriend. Feliciano, grateful for having suspicion lifted off of him, laughed airily and sped home.

He tore at his trousers and felt his groin. Yes, there certainly was some sort of mound behind his usual manhood, something soft and fleshy. He imaged a wound painfully ripping apart his abdomen and a womb at the top like a balloon. Feliciano explored the monument in interest for several moments, finding at last a small orifice. He tested then. Coming out positive he was thrown into near hysterics.

Clutching the counter for support he swayed uneasily. After sobbing wretchedly for nearly an hour, he came to a conclusion. Something needed to be done. He needed to leave, to hide until the baby was born.

Digging in the closets for dressed and the most effeminate clothing he could, he hastily packed a bag with money and packets of food. Without another word, he fled.

The street life proved difficult. He found an abandoned cabin in a wood and stayed there for several months, venturing out only for food and purchasing several books on childbirth. The images terrified him.

He had curious dreams, where he was buried deep beneath the earth, holding a nameless, genderless, child to his bosom and breathing in mounds of earth.

In the slow parts of the day, he would often examine the growth on his body. His own organs seemed to have deflated vastly in size. The formatting was ovular, and he came to recognize a labia majora and labia minora. He lacked, though, a clitoris or urethra orifice, and he imagined that it was far too complicated. Feliciano probed the vaginal orifice and wondered if that was there for those moments the man had mounted him. They were too lost, too submerged in passion to have much common sense. Perhaps when he spread his legs for the man, the orifice wriggled through like the mouth of the snake which had been hiding. Perhaps the man penetrated that. Feliciano, curiously, rarely wondered why or how he was as he was, but he was more concerned with making it by and giving birth.

Eventually a couple of hitchhikers found Feliciano's hiding place. His belly had grown, shaped like a ripe pear, and easily visibly from behind his dressed. Startled, he stared at the two men. He was sitting at the table, eating lunch pacifically.

The men were quite unsure what to do. Should they throw the pregnant woman (so the presumed) from their home or find somewhere else?

Feliciano instantly smashed the remaining bits of bread into his mouth and gathered his belongings. He thanked the men profusely for allowing him stay at the home and he dashed off, tears brimmed his eyes for the start and the loss of a perfectly good home. He had enough money to spare for several night's stay at a dingy motel.

Dangerously he teetered on the brink of labor. He often woke in fits, pain seizing him and wrapping about him like a cobra. Eventually it subsided and he slept once more. On the third night of his stay, Feliciano felt pain unlike any other, a pressure in his belly pressing onto him as if some unknown force wished to squeeze out his insides.

With the bag strung over his shoulder, he reentered the woods, finding a cool cave safe from any other living beings, save for various insects and birds.

Sitting with his back against a rock and a towel he had stolen at his bare groin, he heaved and toiled for hours on end. Blood erupted from him like a volcano, bringing with it the piercing sounds of an infant crying. Feliciano brushed away tears from his ears, smearing grime unto his cheek. He leaned forward and, cradling the child in one hand, snipped the rumpled umbilical cord away. Using the water he brought along, he cleansed the child and allowed it its first meal. Still clutching her to his bosom, Feliciano inspected the mess. Blood still oozed lazily from a scar-like slit. The orifice had vanished, seemingly melting back into his skin, and his normal organs had returned to normal. Feliciano slid into pants, not caring that he had soiled them.

Panic struck his heart like a hammer. Where was he to go? He was too far from his own home. Ludwig was the only man who lived close enough to walk over.

Forgetting his belongings and worrying only over Mia, whom he named as he exited the forest, he toiled towards the small home to which he now resided.

Feliciano snapped out of his trance when Ludwig laid a gentle hand on him. Feliciano smiled meekly, gazing at the metallic eyes.

"Dinner's ready." Ludwig said curtly and sat besides Feliciano, taking Mia in his own hands. She was nearly six months old then and was excited by the world around her.

Feliciano nodded and yawned, feeling grateful the hard part had come to a close.

Happily ignorant he remained for about a month.


	3. Early Childhood

**Demure**

**Early Childhood**

Mia began walking, using Ludwig's hand, Feliciano's, or even chairs and tables. She moved along happily, her short, 9 month old legs capturing little distance, but nonetheless she teetered from edge to edge. To her, the adventure was a treacherous journey. She hopped from couch to hand to table as if there was a pressing matter at hand. Only when her small tan hands found balance was she free from the enigmas of evil swimming between the distances.

Alas, Mia hadn't made a sound since the day of her birth. Feliciano's worries especially formed when, two months prior, she had dropped her favorite doll down the steps. The doll, a white face with painted wide eyes and a small red mouth. The doll, a small body fluttering with blue skirts flailing behind her, small cupped hands flailing uselessly as she fell for what felt like an eternity. Mia winced with the doll's rump hit a step, then continued slipping and tumbling down. Tears trekked down Mia's cheeks, the doll was of course made of plastic, but the fall must have been brutal; for when it landed on the bottom step there was a sickening "crack!' and the head burst into white shards, curly brown hair still connected.

Ludwig rushed to the scene, still with a ladle in his arm. He saw Mia, trembling and staring at the broken doll shattered five million miles away, her soundless tears and silent whimpers. Reaching over, he picked up Mia and reassured her that it was all fine, they'd get a new doll. It was nothing, sweetie, I know she was your favorite, but we could get you another.

That's a funny thing with parents. They never seem to understand toys, it's almost as though they had forgotten the toys of their past. These toys had personalities, names, a special being to them. Getting a new one wouldn't make anything better. The new toy was a clone; an imposter. Mia shook her head and attempted to speak, but found her tongue flailing uselessly within her jaw. Confused, disgruntled, and mourning, Mia resorted to gripping Ludwig's next and weeping bitterly.

Feliciano, when Mia was tucked away for her nap, picked up the shards. He picked up a white piece—one with a blue eye surrounded by dark lashes was painted on. The fact it remained so well shocked him. He set it in his pocket and continued in his tired manner to clean. Sighing and rubbing his weak cheek, he finally reached the body. It remained mostly intact, the dress barely touched, a silky blue that he knew Mia admired touching and pressing to her cheek. The doll's body was made of soft fabrics filled with cushion. He held the beheaded body in his hand, letting the arms and legs fall through his fingers. She looked useless, her soft body and delicate features couldn't protect her from the fall.

Now, as Feliciano held the nine month old Mia in his lap and read from an Italian story book, he suspected that she would never speak again.

He attempted multiple times to urge her to speak. He never lost his patience, and she never lost hers. Often, when Feliciano said slowly "una mella" and Mia would try to repeat, Ludwig thought he saw a single person looking in a mirror.

Perhaps before the birth of the girl, Feliciano was patient. Perhaps it was a background trait that was aroused by child birth. Or, Ludwig mused, the mysterious father had the mild attitude and quiet determination.

Leaning against the door frame, Ludwig vaguely wondered whether Mia would have been like this if he had been the father. Setting obvious impossibilities aside, he imagined Mia, with fair hair and skin, amber eyes like Feliciano, sitting there with grim focus and trying as hard as she could to succeed and accelerate beyond expectations.

But the meat was burning and Ludwig hurried off to tend it.

Mia, as several more months passed and she neared her second birthday, was very different from Feliciano in several ways. She was unafraid, for one. Whenever she found a small insect, instead of screaming and trying to smash it, she stared in polite interest and offered a hand. The other difference, as far as was obvious in the toddler, was focus. Ludwig and she would share similar expressions if watching the TV. She even played seriously, set to work and never letting her mind drift as she picked up her dolls and car toys.

For the most part, Feliciano and Ludwig were elated that she hadn't anything to different from the nearby children. Sure, she never could speak with them, but she played all the same.

"A mute daughter," Feliciano noted, watching Mia exchange leaves with the neighborhood boy (a chubby blonde boy with a slow, stupid look on his face) during a slow summer day. The bees droned on and the flowers swayed in the warm wind. Scents of lilacs and apples drifted through the front yard.

"What of it?" Ludwig inquired, watching Mia happily trump the boy, gathering the oak leaf.

"It's a surprise, to be honest. I wonder how she would have talked." Feliciano explained, drinking his tea. He wore a breezy white shirt and matching shorts. His feet were bare and tucked beneath him.

Ludwig grunted, "There are a lot of 'would have's. She probably would have been well-spoken and only spoke when needed. Unlike you," he added shamelessly.

Feliciano laughed and shrugged, leaning back on the chair and closing his eyes.

"I wish this would never end."

"You have a good 17 years left, Feliciano." Ludwig said in a mock-grave voice.

"They'll fly by," Feliciano retorted, not opening his eyes.

"You sound like an old man."

His eye sprang open and the Italian rounded on Ludwig, "I do not!" He exasperated, making motions with his hands.

Ludwig grinned and glanced at Mia, who was standing and gazing at her wad of leaves. "Looks like we have a gambler,"

"I guess we do," Feliciano forgot his outburst and watched the plump boy's face contort in an effort to understand


	4. A Ghost of What He Once Was

**Demure**

**A Ghost of What He Once Was**

On Mia's second birthday, a cool autumn day on the brink of winter, Ludwig baked a cake. The party was small, only Mia and her two parents. She couldn't have been more elated. She tried a bite of cake and in result her face was coated in frosting. They sang several charming songs and ended with watching a movie. Ludwig had a cozy corner of the living room set, with the help of Feliciano, to watch movies. They piled pillows, the softest of couches, and blankets into a corner. The movie was a family-friendly film about talking animals and whatnot, and Mia was entranced enough.

Feliciano was lying on his side and watching Mia who raptly sat cross legged and stared at the TV set. Ludwig was behind Feliciano, rubbing the other's back gently. Feliciano hummed in pleasure, glancing up at Ludwig who gave him a smile, his metallic eyes shimmering. Mia casually glanced at them and decided she too wanted to be held. She crawled over and promptly sat between the two. Feliciano laughed at the motion and so they remained finishing the movie.

Afterwards, they left for the park. Ludwig and Feliciano in long, brown trench coats and Mia in her fluffed purple coat that made her look like a small puff-ball. Her prominent brows furrowed as she watched the red, yellow, and auburn leaves float to the ground. On either side her parents, as Ludwig now found himself calling himself and Feliciano, held her hands. The cool breeze rustled their hair, sending leaves twirling and dancing in the heaven far.

"Ludwig?" The voice came from somewhere between the trees. The sun was ready to dip into the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the speaker's face through the shadow of leaves.

"What?" Ludwig turned around, stopping with the other two.

The speaker was a thin man, slightly hunched over. His sallow skin clashed violently with his black coat and his red eyes stared evenly at Ludwig, in mild surprise. His white hair fluttered briefly. Ludwig wouldn't have recognized the man hadn't it been for the remarkable features. His cheeks were sunken in, eyes harried, and a ghost of a five o'clock shadow littered his face.

"Gilbert?" Feliciano asked, breaking the silence between the two brothers.

Gilbert offered a weak smile and stepped forward, hands jammed in his pockets. "Hey, enjoying the park I see?" he asked gently, his voice slightly hoarse. His attention then went to Mia, who was staring at him curiously. "And who is this pretty thing?" He asked, meeting Mia's honey-colored eyes.

Mia shyly walked clutched Feliciano's leg. She was still new to walking and refused to be carried in a stroller, despite her surprisingly young age.

"This is Mia," Ludwig replied, looking lovingly at the girl.

"Mia." Gilbert repeated and waved at the shy girl. Mia waved back, her tiny hands balled slightly. "She looks a bit like you, Feliciano, has your eyes… Is she adopted?" He asked.

Feliciano replied mildly; "Not quite."

And Gilbert left it at that. He bade them good-bye and trekked the opposite direction.

Ludwig and Feliciano looked at each other, understanding passing without lips moving; _what happened to him?_

They didn't see Gilbert for nearly two months after. Feliciano found himself a job at a grocery store and Mia found herself a job; trying to be potty-trained. She seemed to find this task resembling advanced calculus and promptly cried whenever she made a mistake.

Ludwig's patience ebbed, but Feliciano's did not.

One the fateful day she learned, however, Feliciano received a very angry phone call from his brother.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I COME HOME LAST MONTH AND YOU'VE LEFT WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A NOTICE—YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY TO LEAVE ME HERE ALONE? I TOLD YOU I HAD A TRIP AND WOULD BE GONE FOR THREE YEARS-BUT THAT'S NOT AN INVITATION TO LEAVE, YOU STUPID…" And thus Lovino proceeded to call Feliciano every unprintable name under the sun.

Feliciano listened mildly, his mouth quirked in annoyance. He replied that he was staying at Ludwig's and there really was no reason to throw a childish fit. Something in Feliciano's voice caused Lovino to stop dead in his chant. "What?" he asked, shell-shocked.

"I'm staying at Lud—" Feliciano made to reply.

"I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID—but why?"

"That is none of your business," Feliciano replied and refused to continue the topic, asking Lovino his opinion further.

Ludwig, standing at the door and holding Mia, understood none of it for it was in rapid Italian. Mia did understand and did not very much like the tone of her Mama's voice.

Lovino explained that he went on a sort of tour with his old friend Antonio, in the hopes that it would calm his nerves. Lovino explained this all quietly.

Ludwig, despite the language difference, understood that a change had occurred between Feliciano and Lovino. Although Feliciano never raised his voice, he seemed much colder, as if he held a grudge.

Ludwig took Mia out of the room to have her take a bath, noting to never get on the wrong side of Feliciano.

Mia played in her bath, making fake beards with the soap suds and rocking back and forth when Ludwig washed her hair. She smiled at him, her small teeth a pearly white.

After the bath, Mia was set into her favorite dress and sat upon Ludwig's shoulders, looking at Feliciano.

He was sitting moodily on the couch, but his expression remained unreadable.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig asked, sitting beside him.

Mia looked at him worriedly, holding out a hand.

Feliciano had cut his hair back to its proper length and looked much older than he should have. "I'm fine," he said suddenly and smiled at the two of them. He took Mia's hand and added, "We should invite Gilbert over some time, or someone. We can't stay cooped up for too long here."

Ludwig nodded and made to call.

Gilbert arrived a week later. The first chills of winter were beginning to set in. He was in the same jacket, but wore jeans and a doleful smile on his face. "Hi," he said and smiled at Mia, who was playing with her small tricycle. She grinned and rolled away, having greeted him.

"Hello Gilbert," Ludwig said stiffly, holding out a hand.

Gilbert considered, hesitated, then shook it. He let go quickly and turned to Feliciano, who hugged him briefly. Feliciano and Ludwig wore what Gilbert considered "parenting clothing", logo-less T-shirts, beige trousers, and slippers. Gilbert grit his teeth uneasily, he felt as though he was a million miles away from Feliciano and his brother, as if he was meeting them anew.

"Well come in," Feliciano said, holding out a hand to their homely house. Pictures framed the walls and the kitchen always smelt of food. The couches were well worn and the rooms were warm. Toys were aligned against walls or sticking out of chests. Mia was presently holding her dolls and having a conversation with them.

"Lovely home," Gilbert said. No, not lovely, astonishing. He felt at home, suddenly, and wished his own shabby apartment felt that way.

"Thank you," Ludwig said, shutting the door. "It's getting cold out, isn't it?" He asked, glanced out to the whitening world. Leaves lay in clumps at tree trunks, the grass was yellowing, and the sky was filled with white clouds.

"Not cold enough to snow," Gilbert said, thanking Feliciano for taking his coat.

"Will you stay for dinner, perhaps? That is what we invited you for." Feliciano asked, with a motherly smile.

Gilbert nodded, knowing it rude to pass the offer. "As long as it isn't tasteless potatoes," He shot a glance at Ludwig, who laughed and shook his head.

"No," he said, having quieted down, "Feliciano cooked this time."

Gilbert nodded again and felt slightly awkward, relieved when Feliciano offered them to sit down as he went to prepare the food.

For a while, Gilbert watched Mia play. Eventually Ludwig brought his attention back, "You should go smoke outside before the meal starts," he said, remembering Gilbert's old habit.

The albino shook his head, turning to his upturned palms, "No, I quit it a while ago."

"Oh that's good, so what happ—"

He was cut off by Feliciano calling them to the dinner table. Ludwig sighed and lifted Mia, taking her to her high chair. She complained wordlessly but didn't bother squirming, Ludwig had a deathly grip.

As they ate; angel-hair pasta with crème flecked with green onions, several slices of warm bread, a salad, and slice of tomatoes topped with cheese, silence set in.

"Did you come down with grippe recently?" Feliciano asked bluntly.

Gilbert blinked in surprise, "No, why do you sa—"

"Oh I'm sorry then, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't be sorry." Gilbert said curtly. And that was that.

A trouble silence lay over them once more. Feliciano brought forth the rice pudding and Mia suckled her orange juice, watching the conversation with darting eyes; as though watching a tennis match.

It was a simple "what's new?" conversation to begin with, until Gilbert's curiosity was growing bad-tempered and he blurted out whether or not Mia was adopted.

"I believe I already answered this question." Feliciano replied so coldly, his words seemed to form icicles.

"I'm sorry," Gilbert added hurriedly.

"No, it's fine," Ludwig overran Feliciano's reply, worried about the sharp expression on the other's face. "She's Feliciano's daughter. Things happened and it is not my place to disclose such information."

Gilbert nodded, finishing his pudding and leaving to set his plate away.

The ice on Feliciano's face melted and he sprung up, refusing Gilbert any means of cleaning up. "You go and sit with Ludwig. I'll take care of this."

Gilbert nodded and obliged, chastising himself.

The rain had started, as it did those two years ago Feliciano bounded to Ludwig's doorstep. The rain pittered against the windows like timid knocking, dotting the windows with dime-sized droplets.

Ludwig sat down, having set Mia to her nap. "Gilbert, is something wrong?" He asked, watching Gilbert stare out the window in a melancholy trance.

"What…? Oh, no." Gilbert shook his head and saw the reproachful look on Ludwig, "I was just wondering how I'd get home. I walked here. I live on the other side of the park. I've been busy lately, work and all, it's really taken it out of me." He laughed uncertainly.

But Ludwig persisted; "If something is bothering you—"

"Look, I really should get going. Tell Feliciano thanks for the meal, and thank you for inviting me over. I'd hate to be a burden," He said rapidly, pulling on his jacket and slipping into his boots.

Before Ludwig could reply, though, Gilbert had shut the door behind him.

Feliciano returned, his brows furrowed, "something must have happened. Maybe he and Francis got in a row? You know how good of friends they are… that reminds me, we haven't really heard from Francis in a while."

"We should just throw a big reunion party while we're at it." Ludwig said, still watching the ghost of Gilbert's harried face bid him goodbye.


	5. The Snow Buries Secrets

**Demure**

**Snow Buries Secrets**

Winter roared in like a monstrous wave, bringing with it the largest blizzard seen in that town since 1972.

Feliciano sat mystified by the swirling clouds of white. Snow fell in large clumps, only to be swooped up again by wind and to be accumulated upon the bare ground. Eventually it reached its slowing point, bringing with it a harsh chill and absolute silence that snow brings.

Mia was entranced for a good five minutes before going off to play again.

"Looks like no one is coming over today," Feliciano said dreamily, snug in his red robe and leaning against Ludwig. Living with the man and sleeping near him and brought a touch of softness to Ludwig's heart, one he couldn't quite grasp and explain.

"Well, Christmas isn't too far off, we should write some invitations… I think I bought some of those pre-made cards," Ludwig said and went to search for them.

Feliciano sat down at the table, readying a pen. Ludwig returned with the stack of papers and a mug of hot chocolate.

"Let's see, Gilbert, Elizaveta, Roderich, Francis, Antonio… That all?" Feliciano asked, preparing five of the cards and sipping from the mug.

"And your brother?" Ludwig asked, quirking a brow, keeping a wary eye on Mia who had discovered the box of decorations he had heaved from the basement.

"Oh, yeah, him too…" Feliciano nodded and began signing the cards. "But if this blizzard persists," He said vaguely, finishing the first card, "And some poor woman is pregnant and ready to go into labor, poor dear!"

Ludwig nodded in agreement, feeling for the poor spouse.

Mia had found a china doll and was trying to drag her from the box. Ludwig walked over and pried it from her while replying to Feliciano: "Well I wish them the best of luck."

Grudgingly, the girl complied and moved to the window. She paused and stared at the bright, white world. Then she breathed on the pane and drew various shapes, smiles and hearts, upon the fog before it dispensed. Giggling at it, she moved to the side and continued creating.

"Aren't you going to scold and say it fogs up the mirrors?" Feliciano asked wearily, signing the final letter.

"It would be hypocritical, seeing as I do it myself." Ludwig stated and left it at that. Unless Mia was doing something to hurt her or someone else, he usually was compliant to let her do as she pleased.

However, on days when Ludwig left home for work and Feliciano was set to care for her, he found himself less authoritative. Perhaps he saw the light of cleverness in those honey eyes and the smile stretching on those baby-fat stuffed cheeks.

Now no one had work and Christmas was edging closer. "Four days left!" Feliciano had said merrily that morning. He was always most cheerful, most like his previous self, in mornings. There was the Old Feli and the New Feli, though the New one felt much older than the Old one.

His dreams now rarely consisted of mud and dirt, but oftentimes, in the bitter October, he had terrible dreams. They weren't scary, but they beheld something worse than a regular nightmare would. He would be back, lying and panting besides the man whom Mia would call her "biological father", but Feliciano couldn't bring himself to look at the man's face. He remembered blunt features: the jaw, the black hair, the reddish lips. But he didn't remember the man's eyes, it seemed as though they were always averted form his vision, always keeping a secret. And in that sense, Feliciano did keep a secret. Something Ludwig did not know. And maybe Ludwig, too, had a secret.

But when winter marched in, bringing tinsel and rosy faces, the woes flew from Feliciano's mind.

For the rest of that day, the invites still sitting patiently upon the table, Feliciano and Ludwig decorated the home. Mia napped and watched movies periodically and didn't offer much help (Ludwig positively refused to allow her to do so, as he feared an ornament might befall her and cut her in some unnatural way).

The next day was harshly cold, but the snow had stopped falling and the shoveling began. The neighbors complained and joked about it. Wives, husbands, and children old enough were outside shoveling away snow and creating growing mountains by their drive ways. After the hard day's work Feliciano would cook up something exquisite (albeit a hungry man finds anything delicious) and they would have hot-chocolate by the burning fire.

Mia especially loved the chocolate, creamy, sweet, and warm in her gullet.

Once the roads cleared enough to be accessible, Ludwig grabbed the invites and headed to the post office.

He set them to the man, who looked annoyed with his job and on top of that was a deeply dull person. Ludwig fished for the coins needed and caught a pair of emerald eyes upon him. He recognized them immediately. "Arthur?" He turned, blinking in surprise and placing the coins on the counter.

The man, his tawny hair rumpled as always and his heavy brows furrowed smiled politely at Ludwig. His hands were deep in his trench coat and his jaw slightly slack. He looked deep in thought. After a moment, speaking as though woken from a deep sleep, he said; "Oh, Ludwig, pleasure seeing you here."

"Gentleman as always, I see." Ludwig replied mildly, thanking the man for his services.

"Yes, well old habits die hard." He shrugged and offered a wan smile.

The men nodded to each other and headed opposite ways. Ludwig felt faint remorse at having severed ties with so many old friends, like having disbanded from a particularly excellent sports team or club.

Stepping into the winter air, his breaths coming in thick white clouds, he peered about the town. He'd moved in only a year before Mia entered his life, and had come to know it decently well. The post office sat at the corner of a long line of stores and markets. Across from the relatively quiet road was a school, where he planned to send Mia, and on the direct left of that a business that Ludwig worked at. He had found it well to work there; it was a bank his friend Vash owned, and he found his organizing tendencies to finally come in handy.

Ducking his head he walked around the post office and found himself stopping suddenly at the heavy smell of bread. He turned and a French bakery bathed him in a warm golden glow. He shrugged, why not?

It was small, but seething with business. Children were sniffing and bickering with their mothers who were trying their best to hush them. Ludwig, looking at a tasty loaf of Fougasse, heard the head baker ask him, nonchalantly, if he needed help.

Ludwig looked up and nearly fell back. He recognized the brilliant blue eyes, waved blonde hair that fell below his chin (which had pricks of a budding beard), and the romantic smile. "Francis?" He asked, trying not to gape.

Francis laughed in an aloof, airy way that Ludwig found all-too familiar. "Of course, Ludwig. Who else would I be?" He crossed his muscled arms over his white apron, with a small French flag and some sort of logo in the corner.

"How have you been?" Ludwig asked, still bewildered. Spotting to old friends in this remote town in a single day was beyond him.

"Well, actually. I've opened up this bakery and it seems to be a hit. I do love cooking, if you recall." Another airy laugh, "And you?"

"Well too. I'm living with Feliciano now, so life's been treating me good."

"Ah," Francis nodded, as if confirming a creeping suspicion, "the old school lovers finally giving in and moving together…"

Ludwig laughed uneasily, becoming interested suddenly in the pastries. He cleared his throat, daring to look into those piercing blue eyes. "You free this Christmas?"

"Actually I am," he looked disdained by it, "Do you have any plans?"

"I've sent an invite to your home, well Feliciano had… Come to think, he never told me you lived nearby… Anyway, he sent one to invite you over for Christmas: as a sort of reunion." Ludwig smiled.

"That's odd… It was peculiar to see you so surprised to see me. Feliciano usually comes in, oftentimes with a little girl, and buys bread." Francis said, cocking a brow, "And sure I'll come. You work close, don't you?" He changed the topic abruptly when Ludwig suddenly frowned and made a move to ask more about Feliciano.

"Yes, at the bank with Vash. Don't change the topic, do you know something about Feliciano?" Ludwig angrily overrode Francis, who pursed his lips and averted his eyes for once.

"He's changed. Now are you going to buy something? It's holiday season and that means a lot of customers."

Ludwig bought the Fougasse and thanked Francis. Even as he got in his car and turned a corner into his small col-de-sac, he still ruminated over what Francis said. He carried the warm bread bag as he slushed through the blackened snow, and intended full well to question Feliciano when he entered.

Alas, he couldn't find it in his heart to do so when Feliciano's smiling face greeted him with a kiss. The first time Feliciano had kissed him was the first time, when he had hobbled over, rain-drenched and miserable.

"F-Feli-?" Ludwig managed, but Feliciano pointed to the mistletoe hung over them. He giggled girlishly in reply and sat at Mia's small tea table, playing with her and laughing with such jolly humor Ludwig had the strong suspicion he was drunk.

But he wasn't. Feliciano wouldn't even touch Vino Noire, and his breath smelled of coffee, not a drop of liquor.

Ludwig rubbed the back of his head, but dismissed asking any question. He instead was bombarded by Feliciano as he tried to enter the bathroom. Feliciano stood at the door way, his face grim as the plague.

"Ludwig." He said darkly, "I must ask a dangerous and devastating favor from you."

Ludwig felt his heart race and he nodded, "Yes?"

Feliciano lounged forward and shoved a paper into Ludwig's trouser pants. "I must ask you to," he whispered, "go Christmas shopping." Then he burst into raucous laughter and hugged Ludwig briefly.

"F-Feli-?" Ludwig repeated but Feliciano threw his trench coat over and was ushering him madly to the door.

"Why did we leave it off so soon? I mean really, how foolish! I know last Christmas we had a comely little party and it wasn't an issue, but that is not an excuse!" Feliciano harked, "Go on, go on!"

Ludwig only managed to blink in surprise.

Deeply confused to the point of "I'll just do this… I guess?" he rushed off to buy the presents. He even paid extra to have them gift rapped, and as he was, at the local mart, he spoke with the woman (short, overworked, and pleasantly plump) about what had happened.

"…And then he just shoves it in my pocket and tells me to go! What do I do? He's acting like a _woman, _no offense miss!" He added quickly.

She only smiled knowingly, "Well, honey, I do believe he has a surprise waiting you."

Ludwig threw his hands into the air and cried; "It's like you're _all _keeping some big secret from me! I'm not a detective for…" He rambled off in rapid German, paying the woman and heading home.

As it was, the woman was completely correct. Ludwig then was nearly 100% sure women had some sort of secret understanding of the world.

Feliciano welcomed him in, taking the presents and laying them under the tree. "Well, two days left!" He said cheerfully.

"Papa?" Mia said, tugging on Ludwig's arm.

"Not now, dearest, I need—" he came to a dead stop. "Mia?" He looked, wide-eyed at her.

She smiled, "Hi Papa!"

Ludwig was stunned into silence and picked her up, "Mia you—you can!" he blustered and Mia hugged him.

"A late bloomer, but what a lovely voice!" Feliciano looked like Christmas was declared a year-long holiday. Which it may as well could have been. Ludwig, in that moment, would have given anything to have this moment stretch into the infinity. The relied, joy, and pleasant surprise all swelled in his bosom, making him feel like he could explode from elation.

He looked then into Feliciano's eyes, and behind the heavy happiness, lay something… Darker? No. Darker meant something particularly gruesome, like a nasty kink magazine you hid in your underwear drawer. Deeper. Yes, that was the word. Something deeper. But Ludwig failed to care then and went to teaching Mia German instantly.

The snow buries secrets well, doesn't it? A small voice spoke in the back of his mind. He hushed it and refused to listen to it, which may or may not have been a poor choice.


	6. Eternal

**Demure**

**Eternal**

_**A/N:**__I rarely do these but I do have something worthwhile to say: shoot, guys, thanks for the reviews! This story is grossing much better than I thought it would have, I'm overjoyed you like it! Thank you again for following, favorites, reviews, and most of all: reading._

Elizaveta was the first to arrive on Christmas. She wore a comely blue dress, her hair tied back in a caramel bun, and her smile very affectionate. Feliciano even dared to say she was glowing.

She greeted him and Ludwig both with kisses to the cheeks and smiled broadly at Mia. "Why look at you! Getting big already!" She giggled and knelt down, talking with Mia who replied her best. Mia was in a puffy red dress, her hair tied with a bow, and her overall apparel darling, according to Elizaveta. "Oh you're so cute," she said, standing back and grabbing her camera, a bulky Polaroid that took up a good portion of her face.

Feliciano smiled and ushered them in, leaving Ludwig at the door.

Next to come was Gilbert. He was the opposite of flashy (as was his custom in years prior). His colors were muted and as he entered, a sprinkle of snow began to fall. Gilbert greeted Elizaveta politely and she too, and they started to small talk; for Feliciano was in the kitchen and Ludwig was placing away the presents brought by the two under the tree.

Francis and Antonio came at roughly the same time, laughing at the coincidence as they rapped on the door. Their gifts were small but their voices loud. Gilbert smiled weakly and took to helping Feliciano in the kitchen.

Feliciano understood at once and directed him to the tomatoes that needed dicing. They heard Lovino enter then, coolly shaking hands and keeping his voice down, which wasn't difficult seeing as Francis and Antonio had found Mia and were playing like little kids again.

The snow was speeding up, and the final guest (Roderich) arrived.

Everything be ready dinner-wise, they seated themselves in the fireplace-warmed living room. They ignored the couches and bundled pillows and rugs to sit comfortably on the floor.

Mia was frankly quite pleased with herself. She took to between her parents and watching the conversations raptly.

Dinner came along with richly cooked meats, pastas in red, creamy sauces, and salads that crunched crisp as autumn leaves. Meanwhile the snow thickened outside and the feel of Christmas drenched the air.

"Why don't you drink with us?" Francis asked after a moment, holding his glass, filled with blood red wine. He took a sip and looked at Antonio who was also enjoying a similar drink. Ludwig had loosened enough for a bottle of beer, but Feliciano, Gilbert, and Elizaveta refused to take a sip.

Gilbert looked up, and, as Francis later would remark, he looked beautiful. It was an odd sort of beauty, a sort of worn beauty you find in ancient ruins or books. His lips, pink as rose buds, were slightly parted and his red eyes, the color of the setting sun, were thoughtful. His hair was the color of the snow, which was visible from the window directly behind him, a silent sort of white that chilled the very heart. His pale skin stretched at his cheeks, and very faint lines of age were cropping up.

Francis and Antonio still somehow held onto youth with their age, but they felt as though Gilbert had let go of it; despite being the most immature of the group prior to this.

Gilbert wet his lips briefly and smiled, "I quit drinking," he blushed very slightly.

"Why don't you come clean to us," Elizaveta spoke up, her voice warm and maternal, "We are all your old friends. If something happened to you we ought to know." Her pale green eyes bright and her hand subconsciously touched her abdomen.

Gilbert failed to notice anything but her words, and he chewed them for several moments; until finally he sighed and said very slowly, "I suppose there's no harm done in telling you."

"Do go on," Ludwig said, having returned from setting Mia to bed, for the clock was nearing eight and he wanted her to have a good habit embedded into her.

Running his thumb around the brink of the cup, Gilbert began.

"After we disbanded, meaning the day Lovino," he shot a glance towards the silent, brooding man, "Left with Antonio for their trip and Feliciano mysteriously dropped from existence, I had some issues. So to speak… Anyway before that I was sort of lazing about and not really trying for a job, but with everyone I know off somewhere I grew bored and finally found a nice job at a hotel. I worked various jobs but mostly at the front desk to help guests in and out.

"Then a vicious cycle grew. I worked myself a bit of money but I still had too much energy and nowhere to spend it. I tossed it into alcohol and drowned myself in it. I worked for the booze, so the booze made me work." Here he laughed uneasily and shut his heads, placing his long fingers delicately to his forehead. Antonio thought he looked like a man in a painting; forever trapped in an endless winter.

"I did find someone, actually I had a lot of unsuccessful relationships, some with women, some with men, all ended in my heart break. So I stopped coming to my job and packed a bag, hopped in my car, and drove down to a rundown motel. I got room 98, I sat on the green bed with the flesh colored phone next to me, pulled the gun out of my bag, and put it in my mouth. I still remember the oily taste." Tears began sliding down his cheeks. The others stared at him in sympathy and curiosity.

After a moment, he continued to rattle on, choking and hitching here and there. "But then I thought that after every winter there is a spring, the last icicle always melts and a flower always blooms in the warm water it became. It sounds as easy as that, but how I came to the thought was through many, many times of putting that gun, a revolver in my mouth only to take it out again. For a long time I stared out the window, watching the snow sprinkle down like a slow death omen. I thought of someone finding my dead body, my brain splattered against the wall and my eyes looking up into some unsuspecting maid. She would shriek, and finally understand where that terrible smell was coming from. But what really, really got me to that final, poetic phrase: was thinking about you all." Gilbert finally turned his gaze to the eyes around him, he stayed on each for a long, rich moment before moving to the next. He sighed, "I wondered, maybe if I changed you would all finally, maybe, love me. Maybe in the end all I wanted was love. So afterwards I headed out into the snow and watched the road. I said to myself, 'if a car passes in the next five minutes, I will go on.' So I waited, the gun still in my hand and my eyes squinting against the flurry of cold, cold snow. And then I saw one."

His lips trembled into a smile and he closed his eyes again, as if having them open was a terrible effort. "One little car, struggling against the wind and cold, just like I was. Its lights were still shining and mine were flickering off, but somehow that little car was plowing on like no one's business and it didn't care that there was trouble, only that it got to wherever it was heading. And so that's when I thought of that little poem…"

Everyone held their tongues and watched the world outside dim. Feliciano was the first to speak. He walked over besides Gilbert and pressed a comforting kiss, and Italian kiss if you will, to his forehead. "Of course we love you. Sure you were agonistic and a bit annoying at times, but you were still our friend. And here you are, sitting besides us. One day the snow will melt for anyone of us, and of course it will come back, but it's never eternal."


	7. Wanting The Great Perhaps

**Demure**

Chapter 7

**I Am Searching For The Great Perhaps** _or_ **Wanting**

_Hello and thank you all again for the sweet reviews. I probably wouldn't have gotten so far without them!_

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"Sometimes," Feliciano muttered, turning to Ludwig. "I imagine myself leaving you all behind and never returning. To leave Mia in your care and never return..."

Ludwig shifted, propping his elbow and holding his jaw, "don't you love us?"

Feliciano chuckled dryly, "of course I do, but I guess I'm searching for the Greater Wonder."

Ludwig now was fully attentive, sitting up in their bed, which was heavily laden with chrome moonlight. "Greater Wonder?"

Feliciano nodded, "yes, the Great Perhaps, the other thing, the more... If you catch my drift. Sometimes I find myself wondering why I'm alive in such a way, why I'm here, who I am... If there's something out there, something I can't quite explain." Feliciano kept his lips parted, looking into Ludwig's cold eyes. When the blonde did not interrupt, Feliciano continued, "it's not that strong of a desire, really, not like that faithful night, not that nagging, heavy feeling of need and want, to be honest. It's more or less curiosity. I think we all feel it sometimes."

Ludwig nodded stiffly. "Good night." He said gruffly, turning to lay the opposite direction. Feliciano furrowed his brows and rubbed Ludwig's shoulder briefly.

"I'll won't run away in the middle of the night. I'm curious about death but in no rush to figure it out just yet." He sighed and turned away as well, but yet unable to sleep. His eyes focused on the watery silver light upon the picture frame. It was of him and Ludwig celebrating Mia's seventh birthday.

She had already grown a good length. She was of average height and width, her brown hair was often drawn back in a white ribbon. She liked to show her teeth when smiling and shut her eyes real tight. No, Feliciano thought, I love them too much to leave.

Mia woke, staring first at the ceiling, blinking away sleep, and then finally making her first movement of the day, which was always to spread her arms and yawn widely. She smiled to herself, fully believing that a smile to start the day was good luck. She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, pink night gown riding up to her thighs. The sun had barely risen and the room was bathed in pale, cool light of early morning. If Mia wasn't up first then Ludwig was. Feliciano always slept late, and Mia still hadn't reached the age of lethargy.

She made her way barefoot through the chilled hard wood floor and onto the freezing tiles. She pulled on the white ribbon and examined herself in the mirror, plucking the red tooth brush and commencing her routine.

Ludwig rose from bed hardly long after. He met with her in the kitchen, seeing her pour milk into her cereal bowl, standing on her tip-toes.

"Good morning," Ludwig said, in German. She replied and asked how he slept, and he replied that he slept like the dead, as was morning tradition.

Mia climbed atop the chair, wooden but oddly comfortable, and began eating. Small drops of milk, like pearls, stuck to her lips and slid down her chin. Ludwig leaned over and wiped them with his thumb.

"What're we doing today?" Mia asked, setting away the bowl.

"Weekends, can't wait til they come and when they do, you are ultimately unprepared." Ludwig figured and turned to Mia, who was lingering besides the counter. "Whatever you want, Mia."

She shrugged and left to dress. Ludwig drank his coffee, which had grown disgustingly stale, without really tasting it. His mind was still sodden with last night's conversation. He worried that Feliciano would seriously consider ditching and never coming back. He knew Feliciano to run away when something bothered him, but he always came back... Maybe not totally, maybe he always left something behind. Maybe this was his last piece, he had dropped, everything else, peeled away each layer, until now this was the core. The next time he'd run away he'd never come back because there was nothing left to come back.

Ludwig's head and heart ached with the thoughts. He tried to abandon them, but they kept returning like embarrassing moments one tries to forget and live down, memories that somehow always show up at the worst moments . . .

Mia returned, fixing her overall straps, she pointed to the backyard with the opposite hand, "I'm out to garden," she said professionally.

Ludwig raised a wary brow, "isn't it early?"

She shrugged, grabbed her pale, and went out with a strut.

Feliciano entered nary an hour later, Mia still played in the lazy summer morning. Feliciano dragged his feet to the kitchen, cracking two eggs and pouring them into the pan, still hardly awake,

"Sleep cooking." Ludwig commented, watching feliciano dig for basil, his shirt three sizes too big yet somehow never falling into the pan.

"Mm," Feliciano muttered in reply. "Mia?" He yawned and a shudder raced down his back.

"Outside. She loves the early morning." Ludwig said, glancing out the window for a clear view of the girl, she was picking several small, pink flowers and putting them in her pale, humming tunelessly to herself. Her thick curls poured over her shoulder as she bent down, obscuring her face and expression.

Feliciano nodded and set a steaming plate for Ludwig, "Plans for today?"

Ludwig shook his head.

"I see... How about we head to the park and catch a movie at the drive in? It's only a quarter and they show kid friendly movie at seven."

"Sounds formidable." Ludwig then ate in silence, nodding here and there, but never really knowing why he did it.

Mia returned later with a pail of flowers, and set them on the coffee table. She flicked of any bugs and organized them by size, getting herself a piece of string from the rattling drawer.

"Have you spoken with Kiku lately?" Ludwig suddenly asked.

"No, why?" Feliciano felt his heart race. Ludwig's eyes were glassy and disturbed: always a bringer of bad news.

"He got into an accident, shot several times while in office. Apparently he was working on something really important and some mob leaders didn't like that."

"Is he...?" The question died in his throat and Feliciano felt tears burning in his eyes.

"No, he's heavily crippled, but alive and mentally well."

Sighing in relief, Feliciano laughed nervously and bit his thumb nail.

"This happened about three days ago..." Ludwig said softly, leaning forward and helping Mia string several flowers together, creating a blue-pink-yellow pattern. "We should visit him some time."

"Yes we should," Feliciano whispered, deciding to help with the project as well.

The clock was peacefully ticking towards noon when the table was set with three cheese-and-salami sandwiches, sliced into triangles were being eagerly devoured by the family. Mia was coated in dirt everywhere but her hands. Ludwig took the liberty of laying a plastic wrap over the chair. When she finished the two parents drew a bath and plopped her in.

Ludwig took to wiping down every surface, flicking off every minor dust particle, and pushing every bit of furniture into its rightful place. When the prospect of raising a child and keeping the house clean connected in his mind, the realisation dropped like a load of lead. He at least had the dull hope that a female child wouldn't be quite as messy, but Mia tracked in more dirt than the neighbourhood boys.

The bath water turned a light brown. And that turned darker when Mia's hair was rinsed and scrubbed.

The doorbell rang, and Feliciano (rolled up sleeves and soap suds lazily flowing down his arms) left to answer. "Be patient!" He called when the rapping became more urgent.

He tugged the door open and had to stop himself from slamming it shut again. He began to say he did not want to buy anything or join a cult, when the man, whom Feliciano had assumed from his suit a door-to-door salesman, interrupted him. He smiled a lawyer's pitiful smile and asked if Feliciano knew anything about the shooting.

Feliciano narrowed his eyes and cocked a brow, "why, if I may ask?"

"The shooting occurred near here and so we're interrogating, well questioning," a false laugh, "the people around here of what they know."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Even a young Japanese man by the last name Honda?"

Feliciano's eyes widened and his tongue caught in his mouth.

"So you do," the man leaned to the side, his hands still clamped together politely.

Feliciano nodded, conscious suddenly of the fragrant shampoo bubbles sliding down from his elbows, around his forearms, wrapping around his wrist, and finally dripping down his knuckles. He didn't remember when he clenched his fists. "Yes, an old friend..."

The man grinned, "and Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

"What does this have to do with me? We were all college friends. I don't see how you know me, how you knew to come to me? Are you an officer?" Was what Feliciano tried to ask but what came out was more like: "You...?" He leaned against the doorframe, now aware that tears were pouring down his cheeks, his vision becoming blurry. The Old Him was peering through. He imagined himself dragged away for somehow influencing a gang he'd never heard of.

"I'm just an old officer," the man said with an actual smile. Not the lawyers faux grin. Cheshire grin. The _oh so sorry to hear that... Pass the grav_y smile. Wrinkles lined his mouth and his hair was streaked with white. "We found a revolver on the scene that belonged to Gilbert. Though, when we asked him he claimed not to have used it in these past months and had, in fact, thrown it out. We don't know why—"

"He wanted to kill himself," Feliciano said quietly. The man glanced at him, mouth still opened, and nodded.

"Yes, and so anyway someone, from all the evidence we've gathered: someone talk with dark hair and tanned skin, had used that gun to attack this facility because the highly confidential work they were doing might have affected him. Anyway, we're asking you because you know someone who worked on the project, know the person who owned the gun, and live in the same area."

"I DIDN'T—" Feliciano began to shout but the man mildly raised a hand and shook his head.

"We aren't accusing you, of course. You weren't even on the scene!" Dry laugh, shake of head, pitiful smile. Everything Feliciano was rapidly coming to hate. To loathe. "No. But maybe you know why this is all related."

Feliciano had dried the tears and tried radiating hate with all his might. "Well," he said coldly, thinly, feeling ready to strangle the man for accusing him of some wrong deed. "When you know a lot of people in the same area, chances are something between them will happen," and Feliciano in his head cursed very rudely.

"Of course, of course..." The man must have seen that he wouldn't get an ounce of information he wanted and therefore bade Feliciano a good night and left.

Feliciano watched the man's jacket ripple behind him in the summer wind, how the sharp sunlight seemed to drown and die in the blackness of his suit. He loathed the site, and felt as though the trees and plants in the man's wake would suddenly wilt and go brown.

Feliciano slammed the door and returned to find Mia dressed for their planned park outing. "Mia," Feliciano tried to keep his voice even, but the "uh" wavered, catching Ludwig's attention, "I'm going to go visit your uncle Honda, okay? It won't be long I promise. Daddy will take you to the park." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek and Ludwig's.

The soap had mostly dried or dripped off, so he quickly wiped his arms and pulled on his shoes.

Kiku lived a walking distance away, but Feliciano doubted his quaking legs to make it that far. He ended up catching a bus, coming much quicker than he wanted, and regretting it. Sighing and paying the bus driver, Feliciano moved to the house and held his breathe after ringing the door bell.

The ringing echoed and before it faded, he heard some movement and "oh who could this be?"

The door swung open, and Feliciano met blue eyes. "Alfred?" He said, hardly surprised, but still sapped of energy from the previous scare.

"That's my name," Alfred said, smiling. He looked like an overused rag, worn eyes, worn smile, his hair dim, a watery shade of yellow. "Come in, you're here to see Kiku I bet."

Feliciano nodded and entered, slipping out of his shoes. "And you?"

"I'm helping him for now, as he heals. I don't do it for money, though, but for a place to stay." Alfred explained quickly and lead Feliciano to the living room.

A wheel chair was parked by the windows, which were large and throwing in light, deeming a lamp needless. The floors were carpeted and a single table sat low to the floor. In one corner was a sword rack and besides it was Kiku, running his fingers down the dull edge of the blade.

"Kiku?" Feliciano moved over. Kiku snapped over. His face was heavily bandaged on the right side.

"Feliciano? Oh hullo." Kiku said softly, his voice coming as a dull croak. He was sitting on the floor, elbow propped upon the wheel chair, and his hospital bed-dress splayed around him like a upside down flower. "It's nice to see you." He smiled, looking at Alfred.

Alfred rushed over and grasped Kiku's sides, heaving him up and setting him on the wheel chair. The skirts spilled down the side, and no feet were at the bottom.

Feliciano nodded, trying to avert his eyes from the forms of legs, ending abruptly at the knees. "Yes a pleasure. I just wanted to see how you are. Maybe when you're better I'll bring Mia." Feliciano smiled.

"Mia?" Alfred asked.

"My daughter."

"I'd love to meet her. How old is she?" Kiku leaned back, arm, thin and pale, holding his weak chin.

"Seven, eight this November..." Feliciano rung the hems of his shirt.

"I see. Care for tea?" Kiku smiled and Alfred started for the kitchen.

"Oh no, no I just came to see. I have to be somewhere and I was in town so, I thought, a quick visit would be good." Feliciano said, along with "good bye, see you soon, get better!"

He never wanted to come back.

The image of Kiku standing by his katana, his legs ending half way, knowing he'll beer be able to use it again, was branded on Feliciano's eyelids. He wanted to help but he knew he couldn't. Prosthetics weren't that great, really, but it would be better than nothing. And Alfred penniless and dry of any blissful aggorance he once was rich with. It hurt Feliciano's heart like a bullet wound. He caught up with Mia and Ludwig at the park, still thinking.

Ludwig wanted a clean home, and a family. He was always simple like that.

Kiku probably wanted legs, to use his katana. To be complete.

Alfred wanted a job, something substantial, permanent.

Gilbert wanted affection: love. Some _proof_ at least that he mattered.

Mia wanted a new toy, a small toy kitchen, for now at least. Then she'd want a dress and a date and a car...

Elizaveta wanted a child. She wanted to raise something and be responsible. She wanted something she could take almost full credit for. To love something that loves back.

Francis wanted to sell bread forever. He wanted an eternity in his warm bakery, golden and rich, safe from the endless winter outside.

****What did _he_ want? What _was_ the Greater Wonder, or Great Perhaps, after all?**  
**

* * *

_Sorry if there are typos/mistakes/formatting issues. When I uploaded this document to the site, something was screwed up. I fixed as much as I could, as much as the site let me, so very sorry. _


	8. Breathe

**Demure**

**Chapter 8: Breathe**

Feliciano and Ludwig woke up early on Mia's 10th birthday, but not to surprise her. They woke to a piercing scream that sliced through their sleep like an axe. Ludwig was first to hear. He hardly pulled on his slippers before he was halfway down the hall.

Mia was in her bed, writhing and kicking the sheets. Her hands clasped firmly on her head and her eyes shut. She had stopped screaming. Her breaths came in sharp exhalations and ragged inhalations. Her night gown was drenched in sweat and her eyes were shut tight, teeth gritted.

The pain exploding in her head felt as though someone had set fire crackers within her skull then proceeded to stomp her brains out with a spiked boot. She wished it all to end, but all stimuli worsened it. She wished her parents would shut up and just take her to the hospital in silence.

Ludwig had picked her up, she barely noticed, and was setting her down in the back seat. She felt Feliciano's lap, gently patting her hair and telling her to calm down.

She chose to ignore it. To make it black. To reverse the Big Bang, so there would be nothing. To reverse the eruption of the volcano, to make it quiet and still and dark again. To reverse the explosion.

Unconsciousness lapped at her as if she were a shoreline and it a fitful sea. Sometimes it enveloped and drowned her, only to pull back so the pain hit her like the sun's merciless rays.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Ludwig cried, having reached the hospital, "She was healthy just yesterday!"

"I don't know!" Feliciano retorted, watching the car park by the hospital. "She's out again," he added in a softer voice, moving so Ludwig could pick her now dormant body.

The woman at the desk glanced up, saw the weak body draped over Ludwig's arms, and called the ER.

Mia later woke in a hospital bed, its white sheets up to her shoulders and the morning sunlight peeking through the half-way drown drapes. She blinked away the grogginess and noticed two things: 1. That Feliciano was watching her intently and 2. that her breath was not hers to control. A mask was over her nose and mouth, making whirring sounds with her breathing. Several tubes were stuck to her, but she didn't bother examining further.

"Mama?" She tried to ask, but found it difficult to managed between forced breaths. Instead she moved her arm. Feliciano looked up from the machine and smiled at her, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"You're alright now," he mumbled, petting her arm. "You have a little trouble with your breathing. Remember how you couldn't run well these past few months and that sometimes you'd start having issues with breathing?"

She nodded.

"Well the pain was just your brain wanting oxygen, since your lungs don't work well anymore."

Her eyes widened, terror igniting within her belly.

"We caught it too late, I'm so sorry," and tears rolled down his cheeks like falling, glimmering stars.

She stared at the ceiling, unsure fully of what exactly was hurting her. Feliciano decided that if any ten-year-old girl was to understand sickness, it was one suffering one.

"There's fluid in your lungs that aren't supposed to be there, and it's affecting how you breathe… C-canc…" He was unable to complete the sentence. Instead he apologized to Mia over and over, telling her that these next few years of her life will be her best. She looked at him, not in pity or in sadness, but in wonder as to why people apologize for things they never did.


	9. Parents

**Demure**

**Chapter 9: Parents**

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Mia held the book, propped up on her knees, and breathed. The tubes, tickling her nose, trickled in her life force. She fingered her breezy shirt, with some band name printed on the front, as she edged nearer to her favorite part of the book. She'd read this book at least five times in the past month alone, Feliciano suspected that she was becoming depressed. Maybe he was becoming depressed. But, he had to "stay strong" and be a "positive influence" for Mia, so they told her. In the end, he suspected that when he broke, they all would break.

She looked up, noticing him in the doorway. "Mama, what are you doing there?" She asked, lips unsmiling.

"I was just wondering if you needed anything. Maybe a snack or something?" He started, moving into the room. He sat on the corner of her bed, looking at her bony frame protrude beneath the cloth.

"No, I'm not hungry."

"You haven't had lunch."

"Mama, I am not hungry." She repeated, giving him a sour look.

That brought the topic to a close.

"Mia, what about new clothes? A new book?" Feliciano pursued.

"No I'm fine." She looked away, pulling her beanie, which now replaced her thick brown locks, to her eyebrows.

"Mia?"

No answer.

Feliciano left the room, rubbing her shoulder briefly and checking her oxygen tank.

"Feliciano." Ludwig said, stopping him in the hallway, the ropey muscles on his arms flexing.

"Yes?" Feliciano asked, halting. He wrung his fingers, trying to meet Ludwig's eyes. He never realized how stone-like they were before.

Ludwig sighed, dropping his shoulders and suddenly looking much older than he was. "Feliciano, Mia was never near a smoker nor any other factors that lead to Lung Cancer. So it must be hereditary, right?" (A/N: Please don't rip me up over this before looking it up first.)

Feliciano didn't like where this was headed. He nodded.

"Well, that must mean her father had it. When you, well, when she was 'introduced to this world', did you notice him having any breathing problems?"

Feliciano shook his head, knowing full well his genetics were not at cause for her sickness. "What are you getting at, Ludwig? I don't know if he had lung cancer."

"I was just asking. Maybe we could find him." Ludwig began to turn away.

He gasped despite himself when Feliciano grabbed his shirt and pulled him forwards. And, for the first time in front of Ludwig, Feliciano was bellowing.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER. SHE'S SICK, SHE WILL BE SICK, SHE IS GOING TO DIE. SHE IS ONLY ELEVEN, SHE HARDLY STARTED GROWING INTO A WOMAN. YOU WILL NEVER WALK HER DOWN THE ISLE, YOU WILL NEVER BUY HER A CAR, AND YOU WILL BURY YOUR OWN CHILD. IT. DOES. NOT. MATTER. FINDING HER DAMN FATHER BIOFUCKINGLOGICALFATHER WILL CHANGE NOTHING!" Feliciano took a breath, his lip quivering and tears welling in his eyes, pouring down lividly red cheeks. "FINDING THE GODDAMN DAD WON'T CHANGE ANYTHING. IT WON'T MAKE HER BETTER."

He let go, erupting into sobs and covering his face. "We won't ever do those things. She will never have a husband—"

"Or wife," Ludwig interjected mildly.

"—Or wife, yes. And if that is the case we'll never get to tell her we love her regardless. We won't ever… Never…"

Ludwig brought Feliciano into a tight embrace. "Look, she has a few years, remember? Who knows, maybe she has more than a few years. Hey, it's almost a gift. We'll be sure to give her the best life she's ever had, right? I know we've taken her out of school, but we can find groups and make sure she has a ton of friends." He comforted the hysteric Feliciano in his arms.

"You're… Not my parents?" Mia said from the door way, her tank at her heel and dried tears on her cheeks. Her honey-colored eyes staring unblinkingly at the two. She slumped against the doorway, as if having confirmed a suspicion.

"Mia?"

She gave them another sour look and left to her room, slamming the door in her wake. "I HATE YOU!" She screamed, throwing herself into a coughing fit, "I HATE THIS BODY. I HATE THIS LIFE. I HATE EVERYTHING." She slammed her fists against the pillows.

When she quieted, and her breathing regulated, she watched the small tears drop to the pillow. They fell, like small stars, and speckled the pillow, making a constellation of dots.

She turned over, lying on her back and staring at her ceiling. Death.

She hadn't thought about it before.

She was only eleven, suffering for over a year, out of school for just under a year. But, her thoughts: a series of planets, were coming together to form a solar system, then a galaxy. All this happening and leaving her complete understanding behind.

Death.

Soon, she won't be here anymore. She won't be anywhere. Because her lungs, a part of her that cannot be separated from her, had decided to fail her. She hated them for it, but if she hated them, she also hated herself. She'll be a pile of flesh rotting beneath the ground. The Heaven her parents told her about was becoming more a faithful dream and less a possibility with each passing moment.

She sighed when she heard the timid knocks that could only be Feliciano's. "Go away." She croaked, turning on her side.

Ludwig jiggled the door open and entered, sitting on her bed. "Mia."

"Yes?"

"You know we love you."

"Shut up."

Ludwig sighed, "you want answers, don't you? Please provide the questions first."

"Where are my parents?"

"Right here," Feliciano answered, petting her arm. She jerked away, staring out the window instead.

"Mia this is no place to act moody, you're not even a teenager yet." Ludwig chastised, but regretted it immediately.

Mia did not respond.

"Well, your real parents are right here. Your biological father is nowhere I know, when you're older I'll tell you in better detail." Feliciano explained, crossing his legs and looking at Ludwig.

Mia snorted, "yeah right. And my mom?"

"I am your mother," Feliciano said, and stopped, mouth still ajar. He'd become so accustomed to the thought of being her mother and Ludwig her father that the surrealism of it had flitted away like a dead leaf riding the autumn winds to nowhere.

"Yeah right," Mia rolled her eyes, "I'm not stupid, I know it takes a man and a woman to make a baby."

Feliciano figured it was best to lie.

"Well your mother is dead."

Mia moved to look at them, narrowing her eyes. "Go on."

"Alright so I was unable to sleep one night and I left home to walk around town. There's this scream from an alleyway and I rush in, and there I see this beautiful woman with eyes like yours and dirty brown hair screaming her head off at me. I come closer and I notice that she's going through labor. Now I've trained in 'birthing' so I rushed to help her. She spoke Italian, and when the pain died down for a little, she explained that the man who made the baby in her had run off and never come back. Well then you're born and she gives me to you, calling you 'Mia' and then dies. I rush to your dad," he nodded his head towards Ludwig, "and he helped me raise you. Any questions?"

Mia didn't answer, or in this case ask, so she closed her eyes and fell into a light doze.

Feliciano left, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. Ludwig pulled the covers over Mia and kissed her temple, leaving the room with a glance towards Feliciano, who was leaning against the bathroom counter. He had his cellphone up to his ear and was speaking in low Italian. Though Ludwig had a hard time understanding the currents of the rapid, lilting, and warm language, he could hear the malice.

Feliciano was on the phone with Lovino, asking him two things: a) Why he lied about the date of his trip, among other things, and b) why he never explained his Lung Cancer.


	10. Afternoon

**Demure**

**Chapter 10: Afternoon**

_Bonus chapter for tonight, since I'll be busy with school and will have scarce amount of time to update… _

Feliciano stirred his coffee, the afternoon breeze brushing across his face. The café he sat at smelled distinctly of coffee beans and strawberries. He looked up from his drink and stared at Lovino.

"Explain yourself." Feliciano demanded so coldly his words seemed to form icicles at the end of each syllable.

"Explain what?" Lovino demanded back, hotly, trying to melt the ice.

"What kind of sick person you are for knocking me, your brother, up."

"I told you for the billionth time I didn't fucking do it." Lovino gritted his teeth, fist clenched and sitting on the table.

"Oh yeah? Remember the night before you were to go on the trip, we had a party to get drunk and wish you a good journey?"

"Yeah, I ditched because I had a date."

"A date with me, isn't it? You even pretended to be all humble and shit to fuck me." Feliciano wasn't used to cursing so much, but it felt good. It felt irresponsible and dangerous.

Lovino snorted and shook his head, looking around at the café with a "can you believe this guy?" expression. The three men and two women on their laptops did not look up and the couple on their date frowned at Lovino, wondering why he was looking at them.

"No you idiot, with a nice chick and shit."

"A girl? Okay now you're lying."

"Yeah, yeah, but I was drunk already and I didn't wanna show up and fucking ruin your little reunion or whatever!"

Feliciano puffed his cheeks and blew out air, rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay, now why didn't you tell me you had Lung Cancer?"

"I didn't want to worry you. But I'm clean now, all better. And I'm sorry about Mia, by the way." Lovino added, then frowned. "How did you know I had Lung Cancer and why the fuck did you accuse me, ME, of all people? Answer these first." He said, gesturing for the perky waitress to refill his cup. She nodded and obliged.

"Well, so a few days ago, when Mia was at the doctor, I went to buy bread—she doesn't like me in the room with her—and saw Francis. He said he was sorry and all, and said that Lovino also had it."

"Fucker told you?" Lovino's jaw dropped and he shook his head in disbelief.

"You're my brother! You can tell me these things!" Feliciano beat the table with his fist, but cleared his throat and continued, "Anyway, I didn't think much of it except, you know, why the hell you didn't tell me. And then yesterday Ludwig brought up the hereditary aspect and I thought of you. Now I was drunk when I did it, but I remember the guy looked way too much like you. Dark hair, almost black in the dark of the night. I thought maybe it was Kiku, but when I went to see him, one thing became clear, the man I did it with, Mia's biological dad, had this big strong jaw." Feliciano traced his jaw line then pointed to Lovino, "A lot like yours. So I went back to thinking about you. I mean he spoke Italian, I think, and sounded a bit like you… He was out the same day you failed to show up… But then two things don't fall into place. One, he was nice."

Lovino wouldn't have taken it as an insult, but when your brother—a person especially who sees good in people—just lays it out for you like a gypsy laying out tarot cards, well, you realize you're an idiot and a blockhead, not to mention you're also an idiot. It hurt somewhere that was not quite his heart.

"Two, his house was way far from where you were. And if it wasn't his house, I mean there's no proof since there were no pictures or anything, then how would you have even gotten into there in the first place…" Feliciano suddenly felt very, very guilty.

"Yeah, smartass, now you realize it wasn't me. Hoorah."

"So did you shoot Kiku?"

"What the fuck, excuse me?"

"Did you shoot Kiku? Do you want me to yell it?"

"No I heard you, but how did you jump to that?"

"Well because you were close with Gilbert and knew where he kept his gun and this detective whatever guy claims he saw a dark haired guy."

"There's a lot of fucking dark haired guys in the world."

"Ah," Feliciano finished his coffee and watched the waitress give Lovino his cup. "You aren't denying it."

"Because, dick face," Lovino stood up, paying the waitress, "It's so stupidly stupid that denying it will only make me look even more stupid than you. And that's saying something!"

Feliciano shot up, his chair toppling behind him. The chatter and tapping of keyboards stopped abruptly around the café, even the waiters held their breath. "Excuse me? Is YOUR daughter going to die in a few years?"

"I know you're stressed and worried and messed up right now, but that doesn't give you a fucking excuse to point your fat finger at anyone who matches your vague ideas! Get an actual detective! All you've ever been good at is drawing and being a complete dumb ass!" With each sentence Lovino was growing louder, but not quite bellowing.

"At least I didn't fucking fail Spanish!" Feliciano shot back, leaning forward, "And at least I didn't fall in love with my fucking Spanish teacher!"

"THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SPANISH OR ANTONIO!" Okay, now Lovino was bellowing. Also, he was slamming his open palms against the table, sending the cups jittering in their plates. The waitress watched nervously, holding Lovino's credit card close to her breast. "WHAT THIS DOES HAVE TO DO WITH IS YOU PRETENDING TO BE SHERLOCK WHEN YOU'RE ONLY THE GODDAMN DOG!"

Feliciano winced, but didn't cry. He'd cried enough. Then, after a sudden and dark silence, the supernova happened. "WELL MR. SMARTASS BASTARD WHO NEVER GOT ALONG WITH SOMEONE I LOVED, WHO BY THE FUCKING BYE HAD NOTHING, ZERO, ZIP TO DO WITH YOU AND YOUR CHOICES. YOU PICKED ON ME BECAUSE SOMEONE I LOVE LOVED ME BACK. BECAUSE I DIDN'T GO FUCKING CLUELESS GIRLS BECAUSE I WAS ANGRY, BECAUSE I AM SUCESSFUL."

Somehow watching Feliciano explode made Lovino cool his temperature several minor degrees. "I hardly call a failing relationship with everyone you know and a dying girl successful." He said, and instantly regretted it.

He felt he deserved the hard smack across his face.

Feliciano's palm was as red as Lovino's cheek, which he rubbed softly.

"I'm sorry." Lovino murmured, taking his credit card and booking it. The waitress took a step back, biting the ends of her blonde hair nervously.

Panting, Feliciano looked at her, apologized, and sprinted after Lovino.

"WAIT." He called, waving a hand. Lovino stopped. In the middle of the street. "I'm sorr—WATCH OUT FOR THAT BUS."

"Wha—" The pedestrian crossing sign had clicked off ten seconds prior to him getting on the road, blinded by tears and fury.

Everything felt as though it were in slow motion. Lovino turned his head, and saw the headlights grow bigger along with the truck pummeling at full speed, trying to break. In that moment Lovino understood why rabbits and deer stop in the middle of the road.

It's because they're too scared to do anything else.

He felt his legs slip from under him, heard something crack and some hard surface meet a soft surface. Red burned before his eyes and he thought the ground was coming awful fast to hit him. His head started to hurt.

And then, it was black.


	11. Not Enough Time

**Demure**

**Chapter 11: Not Enough Time**

Feliciano held the clump of dirt in his cupped hands, and tossed it onto the mahogany coffin. "I'm so sorry that the last thing we ever did was fight. I didn't mean it all. I'm sorry." He said, stepping back. Mia stepped forward, her beanie black as her dress, which fluttered around her knees in the rising wind. The sky was grey and glum, making the grass at their feet an even more evident green.

She dropped the small clump of dirt onto the coffin, "I'm sorry too, I wish I had known you better." She stepped back, pulling her tank along and staring at her shoes.

As the long line passed, finally ending with Antonio. Mia stared at him, shocked. It's funny how a person who seemed to shine like the sun could go out so hard and become so bleak.

Antonio wasn't crying, he wasn't smiling. His face bore no expression at all. His lips taut, his eyes distant, his head slightly bowed. He tossed the dirt onto the coffin and mumbled to himself, sounds that were caught by the wind, strong on the hill, and taken away to nowhere.

He stepped back and watched the coffin disappear under mounds of earth.

There, his arms crossed in his best suit and his wounds cleaned up to the best of the undertaker's abilities, Lovino lay. But it wasn't Lovino, Feliciano thought, it was a body. The Lovino, the person Lovino, was gone. Lovino wasn't here, wasn't underground, wasn't anywhere.

Ludwig pressed one hand to Feliciano's shoulder and laid another on Mia's. She leaned into him, watching the flowers shiver and the mourners weep. Lovino was buried besides his and Feliciano's grandfather. The group of people, she was surprised one could know so many, were crowded around in a circle. There a very pregnant woman weeping into her hands. There an albino man she vaguely remembered with his head bowed. There a Japanese man in a wheelchair, his eyes closed. She thought he was asleep, but he moved slightly and his frown deepened. Behind that man's wheel chair was a broken looking blonde man. His lips were moving slightly, as if he were praying. She wondered if Feliciano knew everyone here. Everyone looked like such interesting people. She felt she wanted to know them all, lest they meet an untimely death. The last one, whom she later learned was named Antonio, was standing besides the Bakery Man, Francis, and also seemingly lost in prayer. Everyone she wanted to befriend. But there was not enough time.

* * *

**O**n the way home, Mia pressed her forehead against the window, watching the world race past her in a blur. She was still eleven, still young, but growing up much too quickly. She closed her eyes and fell asleep for the half hour ride home.

When she woke, in her bed and with very little memory of getting there, she heard speaking from outside her door. Sometimes it was such a good thing to have thin walls in her room, sometimes it was the worst thing ever imagined.

She couldn't make out some of the words, and she didn't want to. She pulled her book out and read, losing herself in the depths of writing.

Outside, Feliciano was weeping silently, apologizing over and over, wishing he'd never lost his temper.

"It's all my fault," He said, choking on his words and leaning into Ludwig's shoulder. "First I bring Mia into this world with a sick body, I betray your trust, I accuse Lovino, I get angry at him, and he runs into that goddamn bus! There just wasn't enough time!" The words tangled in his throat and he resorted to sobbing.

Ludwig was at a loss for words. He kissed Feliciano's forehead, rubbing his shoulder.


	12. The Truth

**Demure**

**Chapter 12: The Truth**

Feliciano walked down the hall, his shadow long in front of him. He stopped, feeling a very strong, repulsive sense of foreboding radiating from the door to his direct right. Turning he shut his eyes tight. At least, he tried to, but he could still see the door in front of him. It was slightly open, and a foul stench was slithering through the crack. Swallowing hard, Feliciano pressed his palm against the door. A shadow splashed his face from the object, swinging back and forth, that covered the window. He couldn't quite see what was outside the window, but whatever it was chilled his heart. In front of the window was a human.

A human, swinging slightly.

A human, hanged by his own tie, eyes staring unseeingly into Feliciano's.

A human that was named Ludwig.

Feliciano's eye shot open, but he didn't scream. The arm around him, a warm, living, breathing Ludwig's arm, comforted him immediately. Ludwig shifted in his sleep, creating a sharp snore and rolling onto his back. Feliciano sighed and drifted back to sleep.

He'd had these nightmares for several months now, starting the night of the funeral. They began with him walking down that hallway. He'd wake feeling slightly confused but otherwise unfazed. They later progressed into him actually reaching the door. Those were much worse. A cold terror gripped him whenever he reached that door, squeezing his heart until he felt it would explode.

Then the changes were subtle. He would slowly turn his head towards the door, and then wake up. During these, he would wake up and wonder what was awaiting him beyond that stretch of imagined wood. Was there a man pointing a gun, reading to shoot his face and cause his brains to expel out of him? Was it someone ready to gouge his eyes and rip his heart out? A woman crying because she could not have a baby when he could…? Or perhaps it was Mia's "real" father, ready to rip off the mask and show his real identity.

It was in these past few days that he actually saw what was on the other side. Needless to say, the truth was much worse than what he had imagined.


	13. Pink

**Demure**

**Chapter 13: Pink**

"What are you most afraid of?" the counselor, a man with a blonde pony tail and thin face, asked Mia.

Mia glanced around the circle and ran several fingers through her short hair, thinking. "The end of the world happening in my life time… Or just, like, the end of the world in general."

The counselor, nodded, scratching his neck and adjusting his name tag: HELLO I AM Tyler. He turned to the other children, ranging as young as ten to as old as 17, all in similar situations as Mia or just downright depressed. Tyler smiled at the blind boy with messy black hair and prominent brows, only ten. "And you, Akos, what are you most afraid of?"

Akos stared blankly to the right of Tyler and shrugged. "I don't know… Seeing the world for what it truly is?" The last part is what he wanted to say, but he thought it too cheesy and stuck with "dunno".

Mia wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. Tyler turned back to her, "Why the end of the world?"

She pressed her lips into her leg and closed her eyes to think. "Come back to me," she said, and Tyler moved on to the other kids.

He came back to her roughly two minutes later, smiling and tapping his nails against the floor. They were seated on the floor in a circle, except for the child in the wheelchair, and facing the center which held a single lamp. It illuminated their faces enough, but brought little warmth. In retrospect warmth wasn't needed, the rain outside was warm and thick, pelting the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Mia smiled vaguely and answered: "It's so final… I mean, even when we die there will still be life, but if there is nowhere for that life to go… I guess it's just so big and dangerous that I can't really understand it is why it scares me."

Tyler nodded sagely, "Yes, we fear the un-understood."

**F**rancis waited outside the building, the black umbrella open and reflecting rain as he read. Mia walked to him, tank in tow. "You're picking me up?" She asked curiously. Though she knew him quite well, it was usually her parents who took her home from the meetings.

He glanced up and smiled briefly. "Oh yeah. You and Akos."

"Akos?" She turned. A short woman with curled blonde hair and small, red lips was holding Akos's hand, leading him to Francis.

"Thank you Emma, do you need a drive home?" Francis asked, rumpling Akos's hair. He pouted and batted at him, but he was laughing.

The woman, apparently named Emma, greeted Mia and looked at Francis, brow arched. Her blue blouse was clinging to her curved figure, one hand holding up her skirt. "Thanks, Francis, I'd love that. My driver, as you very well know, has work and couldn't make it." She said this in French, and Mia only vaguely understood, considering her Italian.

They climbed in the slick Peugeot, the adults in front and Mia with Akos in the back. They drove in silence, broken only by snippets of French small talk between Emma and Francis. Mia pulled her hoodie over her head, stepping out as she was first to leave. She waved to Francis.

She fumbled for the key and screamed. The door was splattered with deep crimson stains. She stepped back, lifting her food and seeing chunks of black and red stuck to the sole of her foot. She tried to breathe more calmly, not to overwork her poor lungs. She followed the trail with her eyes and found a grey mass. She went closer and sighed, it was only a rabbit. Albeit, the furry body was attracting a swarm of flies and matted with blood, and the head was nowhere to be found. The stump that was its neck still trickled blood and Mia looked away, sure that image would haunt her nightmares. She opened the door and pulled off her shoes. She tossed those in the trash and dug around the fridge for something to eat.

**S**omeone screamed outside the door. Mia suspected that someone found the rabbit. There was rapid rapping on the door and she resigned to open it. That meant it was not her parents, which was good, she didn't really want to see them at the moment. Shuffling through the hall in sweatshirts and a shirt much too big to her, her hair like a bird's nest, she really couldn't care less how she looked. She swung the door open and was met by a sudden explosion of pink.

A, she presumed, woman was standing nary several inches taller than her. Pale face and wearing a short pink summer dress, her blonde hair falling below her chin, separated at the middle. "Does Feliciano Vargas live here?" She asked, a severe Polish accent there.

Mia nodded and gestured her in. "Oh, are you Mia? Feliciano's daughter?" Mia nodded, still wondering how someone could be so pink: pink earrings, lipstick, dress, shoes, and nail polish.

"I'm Feliks, pleasure to meet you." She held out a bony hand and Mia shook it.

"Um," Mia said when she found her voice, "Sorry about the mess, I just got home and saw it. I've been meaning to clean it up but I think I'll leave that to Papa. Do you need something to drink or can I offer you anything? I can take a message."

But Feliks had stopped paying attention and was staring avidly at a small booklet on the coffee table. She really was very thin, losing interest the moment food was mentioned. "A Suicide Prevention Manual?" She said, looking at Mia.

"Oh yeah, Mama bought that and has probably read it like a million times."

Feliks nodded, "Well I wanted to tell Feliciano hi, carry that message will you? Bye!" She waved and left, shutting the door behind her.

Mia sighed. She started towards her room, but stopped. The booklet seemed to be pulling her as if through an invisible rope. Returning to it, she flipped through. Warning signs of suicide, how to get help, what NOT to do, what TO do, and so on. Mia furrowed her brows and set it down, wondering about that rabbit. It had no consciousness but it still died.


	14. The Break of Dawn

**Demure**

**Chapter 14: The Break of Dawn**

Mia was suffering a relapse. The violent storm of sickness was destroying her. Sometimes the pain in her head and lungs was so powerful that she wanted to unmake the universe, set it back before the Big Bang, when there was only stillness and nothing.

She lay on her bed, the tank was now swapped for a large machine that controlled her breathing, and she only wished she had more time. She stopped going to the groups a week ago, and in a week she would stop being a person, stop living.

The truth haunted Feliciano and Ludwig, following after them like their own shadows, awaiting at the end of every hall, in front of every door.

Even with the medication, Mia was losing all hopes. The doctors could hardly look into Feliciano's eyes, which held an uncanny resemblance to Mia's.

He held a tray of lukewarm soup as he entered her room. The blinds were drawn shut and the only sounds were the whirrings of the machine. "Mia?" He peered in, brushing away his russet hair from his eyes. He'd let it go again, it needed to be cut.

She looked at him, her hands resting on her stomach. She nodded, allowing him entrance. He sat beside her and she sat up, removing the mask and plugging in the tank. She could manage breathing through it for short periods, otherwise she would have to have an IV besides her bed. Sometimes she tried to convince her parents to not buy any more medicine, that they were wasting their money on her, she was a lost cause after all. But Feliciano and Ludwig would have none of it. Anything to prolong Mia's life was worth the cost.

She sipped the soup disinterestedly looking at Feliciano. He smiled, but didn't speak. He wanted to enjoy her presence while it lasted. When she finished and had lain back down, he took the tray and yawned. He'd been receiving less and less sleep these days.

His nightmares of finding Ludwig hanging in the dark room were now lost in his sea of memories. They were replaced by an edited version of a dream he had before conceiving Mia. That dream was of him lost in a large place he imagined was a castle or mansion, where every turn was a battle for life and death, where he was forced to watch all his friends die before his eyes. Now, the edited version was with Mia. Every room he entered he would see her dead. Sometimes laying peacefully, as though asleep. Other times he saw her shriek her way to death, proving that the last thing she ever experienced was agony.

The dreams were sapping him of sleep. He'd wake in cold sweat and look for Ludwig. Then he'd remember that Ludwig wasn't there anymore. Ludwig was so rarely at home. He'd been taking more business trips lately to try and earn some more money, to pay for expenses after Feliciano had to lose his job to care for Mia.

Feliciano spread his arms on the empty bed and closed his eyes, not falling asleep.

He waited until seven, checking on Mia periodically, for Ludwig to come home.

Ludwig finally did, lugging his suitcase and bags under his eyes. Feliciano stood and kissed his cheek, greeting him gently and offering him dinner. Ludwig shrugged it off and fell asleep on the couch. Feliciano being much smaller than Ludwig left him there. He wondered how long it had been since the other side of the bed was warm.

Laying half asleep on his bed, a vague thought drifted in front of his eyes.

A Decision of Love.

Euthanasia.

The images of Mia screaming her way to death flashed vividly in his mind. After that came Mia, eyes closed and a small smile playing on her lips.

What was better?

To make her suffer just for their selfish needs of keeping her longer, and then only to watch her in agony?

Or maybe to gently set her down, to have her leave the world in peace?

Feliciano hated the thought and turned over, thinking he'd ask Mia the next day.

**W**hen the sun rose, its rays slithering through the curtains and tickling Feliciano awake, the question shot back at him.

He decided to wait until after breakfast. He ate his own two eggs and toast quickly, rushing to Mia with the tray.

The tray fell to the floor, the cups breaking and tea spilling over Feliciano's bare legs.

Mia, on her bed, head tilted away from the door. Her eyes closed and the moth-colored lashes clashing with her pale cheeks, with freckles strewn over it likes stars cover the night sky. Her lips forming no expression. The mask was off, sitting beneath her fingers of the hand that dangled to the floor. Her medication left untaken, her chest not rising and falling,

The Decision of Love was not his decision to make in the end.

Feliciano then proceeded to scream. The pain: a supernova in his heart, where a black hole void of emotion would form. "MIA!"

Ludwig rushed in, his tie over his shoulder, hair a complete mess, and eyes wild. "Feli—"

His gaze dropped on Mia. "And I wasn't home—I missed—Why—" He blustered and stared at her, a block hole forming inside him too.

Images, like a slide show of photo, flashed through his mind. He remembered first seeing her, as a newborn, in the bloody, rain-soaked bundle. Then the winters, they'd spent huddling and drinking hot chocolate (which remained her favorite drink to this day). The springs they spent gardening and cleaning. The summers they spent at pools and playing… The Autumns they spent walking…

He recalled seeing Gilbert that autumn day. Standing there like a statue, right there and yet untouchable, he remembered how Gilbert smiled at Mia. The Christmas party, the dinners, the first day of school, the day they found out Mia was sick, the day they pulled her from school, the day Lovino died, the day he was buried, the nights he'd wake up to the wild fear that he was alone in the world… All these memories came thundering down over him, he wanted to scream and punch and kick.

Instead, he hugged Feliciano close to him.

"What are we going to do?" He asked the solemn man in his arms. Feliciano's eyes were like a statue's: unseeing and cold.

Feliciano shrugged, "I don't know anymore. We can jump in front of a bus, drown, maybe hand our—"

Ludwig grabbed Feliciano's shoulders and twisted him so they were face to face. "No, we are doing none of those things. We will move on, maybe adopt a kid. But first we'll make sure Mia has a perfect funeral, alright?" He leaned forward and kissed Feliciano's head, begging him to calm down, that the world hasn't ended quite yet.

Feliciano looked at him, hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."

And so in a flurry of spring blossoms, the funeral was passed. The sun shone brightly, as if to symbolize how brightly Mia shone in their lives. The grass was tall and filled with flowers. Mia was in her casket, eyes closed and in her favorite white dress she scarcely wore. Her favorite book on her chest, her hands crossed over it. After words from friends and family, ending with Ludwig and Feliciano, Mia was locked away and buried beneath the earth. There, she would go back from whence she, and all of us, came. From the earth, where water that our ancestors crept out of once dominated.

Today was the end of the world for Feliciano. It was Doomsday. He could have marked his calendar. This bright July day was the end of his world. It ended with an unheard whimper and unheard "click" of the machine, and not a bang, not an explosion, not a battle.

Feliciano never found out who the father was, he severed ties with Ludwig, and everyone really. In the end he found a cheap motel, the same one Gilbert found all those years ago, crawled in the bathtub and shot himself in the mouth. The maid later walked in and shrieked at the bloody mass of a head peeking out of the claw-footed tub.

Antonio worked then with Francis in his bakery, which lived in a point outside of time and space, a point beyond understanding.

Gilbert found his use in the world, as well as someone he could love and be loved back by.

Elizaveta held Akos close to her, her own son.

Ludwig heard the news of Feliciano's violent death and was unsurprised. It was known to him how massive Feliciano's reactions could be. Had it not been for Mia, he would have died moments after that bus knocked the life out of Lovino. But being unsurprised did not make it hurt any less. In fact, sometimes it made it hurt more. Ludwig left his job and his last moments were spent hanging by his tie in a grey room of the House of Infinity.

But even with their deaths, the stars still twinkled on Earth, the sun still shined, the lonesome moon still glowed, and the world still moved. From around the graves rose plants and grass, life in the warren of the dead.

But even though Feliciano's last moments were in a dark, smelly bathroom, he couldn't help but feel so grateful for all those he met in his life. All those friends and family he came to love. He put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

The energy that was his life force was finally free of the bindings of life. It roamed freely for a while, until it dispersed and settled in new life. From life comes death and from death comes life.

Ludwig, in the moments of kicking the stool from under his feet thought one, single demure thought.

"The dawn will break soon."

- **The End -**


End file.
